


Dark Side of the Moon

by romanoff



Series: snippets/WIPs [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 12:10:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15605982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanoff/pseuds/romanoff
Summary: Steve tests Tony's new dimension hopper, bouncing from place to place, until he comes across a reality far darker than his own.(This is snippet and so is a very rough-draft with time skips)





	Dark Side of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> When I'm bored/lack inspiration, I upload all my WIPS and let people select which ones they like best. So, let me know if you like!

What a stupid fucking idea.  
   
Steve will blame Tony, he decides. Yeah, that’s it. When the time comes to put this down in their history logs, their mission reports, when people look back on this entire enterprise, Steve will wash his hands of it and say, _don’t look at me, Tony’s idea._  
   
He’s just the moron who went along with it.  
   
So now, here, staring at the bars of a cage. Too strong for him to bend, held in place by some kind of magnetic field. This isn’t his home, this isn’t even his _universe;_ this is someone else’s tower, someone else’s universe, and whoever it is…  
   
Isn’t friendly.  
   
So here was the grand plan: Steve, fearless leader that he is, will test Tony’s new dimension hopping tech. And it worked great, the first three times. Steve got to visit a universe where they were all women, and a universe where – inexplicably – Tony was a natural red-head and no one seemed to talk about it.  
   
   
“So,” the big bald man sighs, hunkering down, cigar in hand. “They found you in my tower. What were you doing in my tower?”  
   
Steve tries to explain, rationally. “I’m looking for Tony Stark,” he says.  
   
The man narrows his eyes. “Tony Stark? What, the kid? He’s dead. Been dead for years. Bless him, I mean – God rest his soul. Disappeared when he was seventeen.”  
   
The device only takes him where Tony has a genetic match. The idea is, so long as Steve lands in a tower where Tony Stark exists, he’ll always be able to strike up a rapport. Because apparently, Tony Stark is the only person Tony Stark trusts with this sort of thing. “I don’t think that’s true,” Steve says, deliberately.  
   
The man’s demeanour changes. He rolls up his sleeves, leans in close. “Who are you with?” He asks. “CIA? FBI? Some kind of journalist? A conspiracy nut?”  
   
“I’m a friend,” Steve says, honestly. “I was told I could find him here.”  
   
The man’s face screws up. “What? Who the fuck told you that?”  
   
   
“Tony,” Steve hisses, slapping his hands against the bars of the cell. “Tony! Hey! Over here!”  
   
Tony ignores him. He shuffles around the floor, drags the bucket to a corner, and starts to mop. “Tony,” Steve says again, “I _know_ you can hear me. Do you – know me? Tony?”  
   
He looks at him, once, too fast for Steve to see if there’s recognition. His eyes flick away.  
   
“You – it’s me, Tony. It’s Steve. I’m – c’mon,” he says, helplessly. “You know me. I’m your friend.”  
   
Tony looks up at him, paused, mop in hand. “You’re… my friend?”  
   
Steve nods, eagerly. “Yes! Yes! Tony, it’s me, it’s Steve! It’s – “ shit, maybe this place is behind time. Pre-2011, Tony won’t know who Steve is at all. “Captain America,” Steve finishes lamely, hating the title. “I’m Captain America.”  
   
“Captain America isn’t real. And I’m not Tony,” he croaks. And then turns back to the floor, mopping. Nothing Steve says, or does, will stir him.  
   
   
“Hey, Stewie,” one of the guard sneers. “What you doing?”  
   
Tony – _Stewie –_ swallows. “Nothing,” he says. A beat. “I was just – I was drawing a picture.”  
   
“Oh,” the guard mocks him, blatantly, “you hear that, he was drawing a _picture._ What’s it of, Stewie?”  
   
Before Tony can answer, he rips the book from his hands. “Huh,” he says, flipping through Tony’s precious pages, “not bad.”  
   
“It’s just a practice,” Tony mumbles.  
   
“What’s this? Your diary?” He flicks through the pages. “ _Today I mopped,”_ the guard mocks, “ _I cleaned the floor. I helped carry boxes to the van. They let me clean up the spills in the lab. Today was a good day._ Jesus, that’s pathetic. Did you know this guy could even write?” The cruel guard asks the other, incredulously.  
   
The other shrugs, one shoulder. “Stop torturing him,” he says, “boss’ll wonder what’s taking so long.”  
   
   
“I – Stewie?”  
   
“Stupid,” Tony whispers. “It’s my name.”  
   
“No. Your name is Tony.”  
   
He shakes his head, covert, eyes fixed somewhere past Steve. Eye contact terrifies him. “They showed me. They changed my name. It’s law and everything, they showed me.”  
   
When was that, Steve thinks. How far gone was Tony that he believed it, believed someone could just change his name, alter him, and no one would notice. “Your name is Tony,” Steve says firmly. “That’s the name your parents gave you. You’re Anthony Edward Stark.”  
   
“Shh,” Tony says, stricken, looking over his shoulder. “Shh, don’t say that. Stop it, he’ll hear you.”  
   
“Sorry,” Steve whispers, bringing his voice back down to an acceptable level. “But it is your name, though. You shouldn’t forget it.”  
   
“I should,” Tony says. “They’ll hurt me if I do.”  
   
“How?”  
   
Tony shrugs a shoulder, trying to be nonchalantly, but clearly burdened. He scratches his finger against a bar of Steve’s cell. “They hit me, I guess,” he mumbles. “Sometimes worse, with sticks or something. Or like, a… a worse.” Tony chances a glance at him, then away. “It’s better if I don’t exist. If I just disappear. ‘Cause, if I get attention, even if it’s good, they remember I’m here, and they hurt me just for fun, which is the worst. Like, because you can’t tell when it’s gonna come.”  
   
Steve thinks, Tony talks like a seventeen-year-old. He’s halted, delayed, stuck in adolescence. “When we get out of here, no one will hurt you again.”  
   
“I won’t get out of here,” Tony says, tiredly, like he’s come to accept it. “I don’t get to leave.”  
   
“You will.”  
   
“If you say so.”  
   
“Outside, you know, it’s – all good. There’s a whole world.”  
   
“Don’t care,” Tony mutters, “I don’t want the whole world.”  
   
“What do you want?”  
   
Tony deliberates. “I – I want my own room.”  
   
“Your own room?”  
   
He nods, rapidly. “So no one could come in. Like, I’m lucky,” he adds, hastily, “they let me have the cell. And I get a bed and everything, but – a real room. I remember…” his voice dips, anxious, quick, like he needs to get it out. “I used to have a room,” he whispers. “I had a bed, and drawers, and everything. I could put my pictures on the wall. My mom would read me stories.”  
   
Steve smiles, sadly. “What about a whole house, Tony.”  
   
“A – house? I – I’ve drawn. Here, hold on.” Tony scampers back to his cell, carefully  
   
   
“For my birthday. I get a gift.”  
   
“Like what?”  
   
“I hope pencils,” Tony says, fingers crossed. “They’re really hard for Obie to get, so I’m not holding out.”  
   
“Pencils?”  
   
“Because of what’s happening outside,” Tony says, with an air of confidence. “I’m lucky he provides for me.”  
   
“What else does he get you?”  
   
Tony thinks. “I got a new suit once, when I grew out of the last one. I got soda. I _love_ soda. I got… deodorant. Lot’s of things.”  
   
“Grew out of it? When was that?”  
   
“I don’t know. For one of my birthdays. Probably… a long time ago,” Tony seems to realise, distantly.  
   
   
   
“Thank you,” Tony chokes up, “this is – thank you. Thank you.”  
   
“And pencils,” Stane says, benevolently. “They’re mechanical, see? So you won’t have to sharpen them.”  
   
“I can draw so much,” Tony babbles, “you’re too kind. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”  
   
“Well, it’s not everyday a boy turns forty, is it? Life starts at forty, doesn’t it?”  
   
Tony doesn’t get that he’s being mocked. “Yes,” he agrees, “yes, yes, thank you so much.”  
   
“Don’t use them all at once,” Obie says, benevolently. “Remember, they need to last you the year.”  
   
   
   
“Stew,” Obie says, crouching low. “What has Steve been saying to you?”  
   
A ruse. That’s why they let Tony sit with him at night. They know. They _know,_ and Tony is – he’s too – he doesn’t understand –  
   
“Nothing. Nothing,” Tony repeats, nervously. “We don’t talk. I wouldn’t, I don’t.”  
   
“You know I know everything,” Obie says. “I’m cleverer than you, boy. You’re stupid, I’m smart, remember? So you can’t lie.”  
   
Tony is shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he chatters, “he – talks to me. I don’t listen, I shut my ears, I sing in my head, I don’t listen, I go away, I try so hard – “  
   
“Shh,” Obie soothes him, hand on his hair, stroking. When Tony calms, he wipes his palm on his shirt, like he’s dirty. “I know you do. That’s why, if you tell me why Steve is here, I’ll give you a new drawing pad.”  
   
“A… new pad?” Tony asks.  
   
“That’s right. All clean pages and everything. You _know_ how rare they are, Tony.”  
   
He nods. “I do, I do.”  
   
“So you know I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t important. Or maybe, a nice new charger for your music, so you could listen again. Wouldn’t that be nice? To listen to music?”  
   
“I could – I could listen to songs?”  
   
   
   
Obie sighs. “Oh dear,” he says, “I didn’t want to have to do this.”  
   
The guard brings out Tony’s book.  
   
“ _Today,”_ Stane reads, “ _I cleaned up spills in the lab. I got mac and cheese at lunch. It was good. The guards were mean. They said I smelled. One of them took my milk. It was not a good day, but it could have been a good day, if I had my milk.”_  
  
Tony whimpers.  
   
“ _Tonight, I am going to talk to Steve. He is my friend. He tells me things. He tells me that I will leave here. He tells me I will have my own room. I will put my pictures on the wall. I will have friends. We will eat dinner together. They will like me. No one will steal my milk.”_  
   
Gently, Stane shuts the book. “What does it mean, Tony? When you say, he talks to you?”  
   
“I – I – I – “  
   
“Did you lie to me, Tony?” Stane asks softly. “I think you just lied to me.”  
   
“He – he said – he said he was friend,” Tony panics, “he said he was my friend! He said! I didn’t know! I was stupid, I’m stupid, I’m stupid, I’m sorry, please, please forgive me, I thought he was my friend – “  
   
Stane tsks. “You don’t have any friends, Stew. No one loves you, except me, you know that.”  
   
“I know,” Tony chatters, “I know, please, I know.”  
   
“Not the Captain, not your mom, not your dad. No one loves you as much as I do.”  
   
“I know. I know, I know, I know – “  
   
“So, when you wrote that Steve talks to you, what did you mean?”  
   
Tony is sobbing, loud, terrified. “He said he was from another planet,” he cries, “he said he was here to save me. He said he was going to take me away because he was my friend, and I would live with all my other friends, and – and I would get to drink soda every day.”  
   
Stane makes a disgusted noise. “Jesus, Stark,” he spits, “I don’t mean whatever made up reason you’re – what did he tell you? What did he _tell_ you?”  
   
“That was it!” Tony says frantically. “I swear, I swear that was it! I’m telling the truth!”  
   
“What, that he was from another planet?” Stane scorns. “That he was here to _save you?”_ He simpers. “Jesus, that’s pathetic, even for you.”  
   
“It is,” Tony readily agrees, “it is, it is. I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid – “  
   
“You are,” Stane says, nodding. “A very stupid, naughty boy. Do you remember what happens to stupid naughty boys?”  
   
   
  
“Is he your friend?” Stane asks, softly. “Look what he’s made me do to you. Would a friend let something like that happen?”  
   
Tony sobs, clutches his hand. “No,” he breathes, shaking his head. “He’s not my friend, he’s not my friend. I’ll never have a friend again.”  
   
“You won’t be so stupid, will you? You know you’re so stupid, I’m only trying to protect you.”  
   
“I’m stupid,” Tony agrees, smacking himself in the head with his good hand. “I’m stupid, I’m stupid, I’m stupid – “  
   
“There there,” Stane smiles benevolently.  
   
   
   
When he comes back down, in the evening, he’s bruised.  
   
Someone has struck him across the face, his cheek swollen, eye purpling. He walks with a limp, his bad arm slack by his side. “Tony,” Steve calls, fingers gripping the bars of the cell, “Stewie, please – “  
   
Tony collapses on his mattress, pushes himself into the corner, rocks back and forth. If he hears Steve, he doesn’t acknowledge them. He mumbles to himself. He is cut off, unreachable.  
   
   
   
“I think you’ve outlived your usefulness,” Stane says, sighing. He’s pulling out a gun. “Sorry, Steve. Time for you to go.”  
   
Stane is – pushed. Tackled. Tony has launched himself at his back, wrapping his thin, weedly arms around his neck, scratching at his face. The gun goes off, leaves a smoking hole in the metal floor while Stane and Tony flail, trying disparately to dislodge the other.  
   
Tony catches him in the side with a foot, and Stane drops the gun, reflexive. He’s stronger, and fitter, but even with a broken hand and scurvy Tony is faster. He grabs the gun, holds it up, hand shaking. _He’s left-handed,_ Steve knows. Using his right hand, any shot might not be accurate. “Stay back!” Tony shouts, waving the gun. “Don’t come any closer or – or I’ll do it! I’ll shoot you, I swear I will.”  
   
Stane laughs. “Boy,” he says, “put down the gun. We’ve been through this before, haven’t we?”  
   
Tony is trained to answer, so he nods.  
   
“And how did it end? Did it end well for you?”  
   
Tony shakes his head.  
   
“So why will it be any different now?” Stane sighs, holds out his hand. “Give me the gun,” he says again, “I’m going to kill him, Tony, but it will be quick, and you can forget this whole, stupid thing ever happened – “  
   
Steve expected deliberation, reluctance, panic. Tony just shoots him; it catches Stane in the knee, and he screams, going down.  
   
“Boy!” He barks. “You fucking, stupid, retard little twerp. I’m going to – to – Jesus, fucking Christ – “  
   
“Should I kill him?” Tony asks blankly, looking at Steve.  
   
“If you want to,” Steve tells him.  
   
Tony hobbles over to where Stane is lying. He kneels, rests the end of the handgun on Stane’s brow. “I just wanted to go home,” he says, sadly. “You could have just let me go home.”  
   
“You will,” Stane wheezes. “Right now, boy. Tony – Tony! I’ll take you home, I swear. You’ll have – the whole house, all the food you could eat, you’ll be able to draw all day, I promise. This was all a test!” Stane panics, “This was just me testing you, you passed! You get to go home now, Tony, good boy, such a clever boy – “  
   
Tony pulls back. “Do you mean it?” He says. “I’ll really get to go home?”  
   
“Yes!” Stane lie, “Yes! Right now, here, help me up and I’ll take you, right away.”  
   
“Is he telling me truth?” Tony croaks, turning back to Steve. “Is he going to take me home?”  
   
“No,” Steve says gently, “of course he’s not, Tony. He’s a liar.”  
   
“Oh.” Tony seems to accept this. “Okay, then.”  
   
He shoots him, point blank. Stane’s skull caves in. His face – melts. This seems to bother Tony slightly, because he pokes at it like it’s putty. “This doesn’t look good,” he admits.  
   
“Tony, he had the pulser,” Steve urges. “He’ll have the code for the cell, too. Deactivate the – yeah, like that. Thank you.”  
   
“Is this it?” Tony asks, holding it in his good hand. “Do you just – “  
   
“No! Don’t – hi,” Steve says, slightly breathless, _touching_ Tony for the first time. “Don’t press anything. Here, let me.”  
   
He’s strapping it back around his hand. “Just like that?” Tony croaks, “We’re going? Now?”  
   
“ASAP. I don’t want you here when the guards find this body.”  
   
“But – but what about – “ Tony looks panicked. “My home. My parents. My everything, it’s all – it’s all – “  
   
“Tony, _Tony,_ listen to me,” Steve says urgently. “You don’t have anything here. I promise you, in less than ten seconds, you’re going to have a new family. And new friends. And we’re all going to make sure you have – everything you need. You’ll never be lonely again.”  
   
“You promise?” Tony whispers.  
   
“I promise.”  
   
“Can I get my book?”  
   
“Quickly now,” Steve urges. “Quickly, Tony.”  
   
He’s tucking his book under his arm, hobbling back to Steve. “Do I have to do anything?” He asks, nervous, eyes wide.  
   
“Just – hand here. Hand on my hand, that’s it,” Steve soothes. “It doesn’t hurt. Shut your eyes, it’ll be over in a heartbeat.”  
   
Tony nods. “Okay,” he says, trusting. “I’m ready now.”  
   
One breath to the next. Tony goes home.  
   
   
   
“What the fuck is this?”  
   
Tony is holding on to Steve’s arm, clutching it. And – Tony, his Tony, the real Tony, is standing, mouth open, face screwed.  
   
“I know what this looks like,” Steve starts to explain. “This is – Stewie.”  
   
Tony is shaking his head. “You can’t do this. You _can’t.”_  
  
“He was hurt,” Steve try to reason, as fast as he can. “They held him, Tony, they were torturing him, I couldn’t leave him. He’s harmless, he just wants somewhere to call home – “  
   
“Did you put him up to this?” Tony asks, pointing a finger in Stewie’s face. “Huh? What’s your game plan here, asshole? Don’t think I don’t know what goes on inside our heads – “  
   
“I – I want a bedroom,” Stewie says, quietly. He’s pale, weak; travelling has taken a lot out of him. “Steve said… he said…”  
   
“Oh, _Steve_ said?!”  
   
Stewie – Tony – Jesus, they need to get him a new name – collapses. His legs give out, slack, and Steve has to wraps his arms around his chest. “Please,” he says, imploring Tony. “He’s not well. I’ll explain. There’s no time, just – he needs medical attention.”  
   
Tony’s lips are pressed together, in hard line. “Take him,” he says, shortly. “We’ll talk. After.”  
   
   
They watch him through the window.  
   
“What’s your name?” The nurse asks, kindly, noting it on a tablet.  
   
“Stupid,” Other Tony croaks, “but they call me Stewie.”  
   
The nurse just takes this in her stride. “Stewie, then,” she smiles.  
   
“What does that mean?” Tony asks Steve, quietly. “Is he, uh. I mean, he’s clearly not the whole package, he’s a bit – “  
   
“He’s not slow. They would call him stupid, probably some kind of… torture, I don’t know. He thinks his name is Stupid. I’ve tried to explain to him, he’s not having it.”  
   
Tony presses his lips together. “Okay,” he says, flatly.  
   
“And do you have any health problems, Stewie? Do you take any medication, or have you seen a doctor recently?”  
   
“They broke my hand. My back hurts a lot. I get bad hurt here,” Other Tony says, pointing to a spot near his jawline, “when I eat apples from the canteen. But we don’t get apples a lot. So I normally eat orange, but only on the other side. Otherwise it hurts.”  
   
“And you haven’t seen a dentist?”  
   
Other Tony seems to think this over. “That’s – that’s a person who looks at teeth, right?”  
   
“Yes, it is.”  
   
Other Tony shakes his head. “No. No one has looked at my teeth. Except – “ a brief pause. “Except when I got hit, once. It hurt the tooth, and I got sick from it, so one of the guards pulled it out and then I got better.”  
   
“Jesus,” Tony mutters, kneading his hands into his eyes. “Fuck’s sake, what the hell – “  
   
“I see,” the nurse says, awkwardly. “Well, that’s – okay. I’m sure Mr Stark – or the Captain, they’ll sort out your teeth. And everything. It’ll all be fine,” she says, reassuring, rubbing Other Tony’s shoulder.  
   
“Thank you!” Other Tony says loudly, “Thank you for asking me questions! I like talking.”  
   
She fishes something out of her pocket. “Would you like some candy?” She asks, holding out a lollipop, flat and red. “I know your teeth hurt, but if you’re careful…”  
   
Tony can’t open it himself, because of his bad hand, so she does it for him. “Wow,” Other Tony says, awed, “candy. I don’t get candy. Only a few times in the canteen. Once it was there for a whole week, but because it was Tall’s birthday, and his wife bought it. I wasn’t allowed any because I’m stupid. But after he gave me one and said to keep it secret. And I did. But I didn’t eat, I kept it in with all my other things to save for a special day, then when I decided to eat it, it tasted no good. I think I left it for too long. Still, it was a good day when he gave me the candy.”  
   
The nurse looks a little overwhelmed. “Oh,” she says, lightly. “That’s – that’s nice, Stewie. Could I get you anything else? Some water? Any other refreshments? We have coffee, or tea, or soda – “  
   
“You have _soda?”_  
   
“Sure. Coke, or Mountain Dew – “  
   
Other Tony giggles. “Today is _good_ day,” he decrees, “today is the _best_ day, I get soda and I get candy, oh my God oh my God.”  
   
This seems too much for Tony. He turns, and starts to leave. “Hey,” Steve says, catching his wrist, “what’s the matter?”  
   
Tony wrenches back his hand. “What’s the _matter?_ The _matter?_ Did you even stop to think – what it would be like?” He spits. “For me, to look at – at him – “  
   
“He needs help, Tony.”  
   
“He’s _me._ Do you know what it’s like having to watch – thinking that – seeing that side of yourself? Or what you could have been, what you are, what – “ Tony can’t articulate himself, struggles with the words. “I’m Tony. Me. _I’m_ Tony Stark. He’s not – do you know how fucking – weird, and bizarre – “  
   
“He’s not Tony,” Steve says softly, “not really.”  
   
“Not the point. Not the fucking point.”  
   
“I couldn’t leave him. He had no one, nowhere to go. He would have died just waiting for someone to tell him what to do – “  
   
“People die,” Tony snaps, “all over the world, all over the universe, in _every_ universe, every second. There are a billion and one Tony Stark’s dying right at this moment of fires, and slips in the shower, and heart attacks. Are you going to save each and every one? Climb into every single fucking universe and bring them all here? Do you _understand_ that I’m – _I’m_ Tony Stark. There can only be one fucking Tony Stark, or else – what the hell am I?”  
   
Tony’s eyes look a little wild. Steve thinks, fuck. He’s having an existential crisis. He’ll admit, he didn’t expect it. He didn’t foresee it. The Other Tony is so broken, so changed, he didn’t know it would even –  
   
But then, they look the same. Other Tony is skinnier, obviously, malnourished, and beardless, but still obviously Tony, identical in every other way. He’s younger, but a duplicate of Tony at thirty-eight. They’ll have the same memories, up until the age of eighteen. Matching childhoods, the same emotions, and feelings. The same first kiss, the same awkward adolescence. And Tony – he’s always been proud, somewhat, of his uniqueness, of all those beautiful things that make him _him._  
   
Steve shifts his hand so he can slip them between Tony’s fingers. “He isn’t you,” he says, quietly. “I know he looks like you, I know you share some things, but he isn’t. He can’t be. He’s too… broken.”  
   
“No,” Tony says, shaking his head. “He’s what I would be, if I were broken. I don’t want to see that. It scares me,” he admits, plaintive. “I don’t want to think – I can’t think – if someone did that to me…”  
   
He stops, swallows. “How could Obie do that?” He rasps. “I know he wasn’t a good guy, but how could he – would he? Would he really have done that to me? I don’t understand – “  
   
“I’m sorry,” Steve says, because he doesn’t know what else to do.  
   
Tony rubs his hand over his face. “And mom, and dad… they would have looked for him. Me, I mean. They wouldn’t have just – “  
   
“I’m sure they did, Tony. He said Stane told him they weren’t looking, but Stane also changed his name and beat him some I’m not sure he’s reliable.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this, please leave a comment and subscribe! If I update, I'll do it on this work, so you'll be notified. If you enjoyed reading, please tell me what you liked/would like to see, and consider reading the other WIPs in the series to cast your vote.
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](http://writingromanoff.tumblr.com/)


End file.
